Johnny foreigner

On my first Saturday here, some of the boys were given a bit of cash as a reward for academic results or improvement last term and I joined them on an outing to a huge sprawl of a market to the east of Nairobi.

I was chaperoned on this shopping trip by two of the older boys, Kelvin and Kelvin. Sadly, it was to be a frustrating afternoon for them since their 1000 shillings budget wasn’t quite enough to buy the football boots they were looking for.

All the shops in the part of the market we were walking around were basic sheds of wood, with row upon row of second hand or counterfeit clothes and multitudes of hawkers milling around them trying to get your attention. The track between the shops was just dirt and scattered trash.

I must have looked very conspicuous – sporting my sunglasses and cap – and if it weren’t for the Kelvins I would probably have been pestered more than I was. I still had my fair share of calls of ‘hi, mzungu!’ (white man) made at me, as well as lots of questions about which is my favourite EPL team as I was ushered towards a hut of t-shirts or shoes. I found it very funny when on one occasion we passed a few guys who, once I hadn’t responded to mzungu, shouted ‘albino!’ at me instead.

As we were returning to the bus, I noticed that some shopkeepers were shouting John or Johnny at me. I asked a Kelvin. ‘They’re guessing your name’, he said. I laughed, appreciating the cleverness of the tactic, though I would have been really freaked out if my name was actually John...

We had been told to get back to the meeting point to get the bus back at 4.30. The two Kelvins and I got back at 4.45. We were the first back. At 5.15, with a handful more boys, the decision was made to leave. ‘We told them 4.30’, the bus driver explained. ‘They’ll find their own way back.’ I found it bizarre that we had just left behind over half of the boys that had come out with us, but I was assured it was perfectly normal!

On the way back to Bosco Boys, we drove past Kibera, which was described to me (with a little pride, perhaps?) as the largest slum in the world. From the road which runs past it you can also see the flats which the government has built to relocate the slum inhabitants. A good idea, ne c’est pas? Except that I’m told the benefactors of this project have already sold on the flats to slightly wealthier people, keeping the cash and preferring to stay in the rent-free slum.